


Spring on Jupiter and Mars

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Crushes, Grief/Mourning, M/M, OR IS IT, Songfic, Stargazing, Unrequited Crush, only time will tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: The sky is clear, the moon is bright, and Sole clearly feels like singing.





	Spring on Jupiter and Mars

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another song fic. Fight me. 
> 
> Things I like: stargazing and singing. Clearly.
> 
> (Also I may (read: MAY) write a sequel to this with more stargazing singing. It depends on how I feel about it.)

Preston continues his slow circuit of Sanctuary, boots thudding steadily on the cracked asphalt, laser musket primed and ready for anything. It’s been quiet lately – only a few mole rats here and there. The dead pile of raiders still rotting just outside the city is definitely enough of a warning sign. It’s almost too quiet, and even though the turrets do plenty of work watching the entrances, he can't shake the feeling that he can't let his guard down. He has to keep watch and keep the people of Sanctuary safe, no matter how tired or bored he is.

_I can’t let these people down again. I’ve done that more than enough._

The moon is high in the sky when there is finally a sound to interrupt his thoughts. His head tilts, trying to recognize it, and it only takes a moment to sink in: boots on metal, climbing a ladder. The hollow pipes ring softly and Preston raises his musket. How someone crept by, he didn’t know (he will kick himself over it later), but there was no way he was going to let it slide. There is only one real place with metal pipes like that, anyway: the playground in the center of town.

Nate had built it after a while of wandering the Commonwealth. Apparently he’d come across one in Rocky Narrows Park and had been motivated by the thought of having kids in Sanctuary again. The swings creak ominously in the wind sometimes and Preston thinks the Giddyup Buttercup on a spring looks at him funny, but it’s a nice little touch. It brings a touch of feeling to the place. He’s caught Marcy and Jun looking at it sadly and laughed at Sturges finding ways to hang upside down from every single piece of equipment. The thought of a bandit on it now makes Preston wince.

He steps forward slowly, moving around twigs and patches of particularly crunchy grass, moving slow and steady. He peers through the sights of the musket, squinting in the low light. Friend or foe, he would be ready. Then he blinked, lowering the musket in surprise, and stared. The moon was full and bright, the stars out in concert, and there was just enough light for him to realize exactly who was on the playground equipment.

Nate.

Nate has climbed up the geometric dome and appears to be lying on it. It doesn’t look comfortable at all. His back is bent at an uncomfortable-looking angle just to stay put, the heels of his boots hooked onto a rod to do the same, and he’s staring up at the sky. Preston sighs fondly, holstering his musket for the time being, and walks over a little less carefully. Nothing to worry about here. Not yet.

“Evening, General.”

Nate doesn’t move, doesn’t look away from whatever he sees in the stars. “Hi, Preston.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

This time, there is movement. Nate shrugs and nods, rolling slightly along the bar he’s using as a headrest. “Thought I’d come enjoy the view.”

Preston comes up to the edge of the dome and leans against the side, looking up at the sky. It is unquestionably clear – not a cloud in sight. There are stars aplenty, and Preston can see every divot in the moon. “It is mighty beautiful. Don’t often just sit and look at it.”

“Yeah,” Nate sighs wistfully. “Used to be hard to see it. There was so much light all around that you couldn’t see all the stars. Like in Diamond City, you know? But even more so.”

Preston nods, even though he knows Nate isn’t watching. “I can’t imagine.”

“I took Nora out for the first time on a night like this,” Nate says softly. “She hadn’t left the city before so we drove out for at least an hour, trying to chase a spot where the light pollution wasn’t so bad. Found a spot to park, drank whiskey on the roof of my car, and counted stars with the radio playing.”

Something in Preston’s chest twinges at the mention of Nora, but he doesn’t interrupt. “Sounds like a wonderful night.”

“I can still picture it, clear as day. Still hear the radio playing that sappy old song. Haven’t heard that song since out here.”

Clearly Preston is a masochist. “What song?”

Nate is quiet for a while and Preston is about to apologize, to tell Nate that he doesn’t have to dig deeper into his pain just because of Preston’s curiosity. Then there is a little cough to clear Nate’s throat and he hums for a moment. Then words take shape.

“_Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars..”_

Preston hesitates to breathe, lest it come out like it’s been punched out of him. Nate’s voice is low, lower than Preston’s heard any human sing before, and it’s crooned with so much emotion. It wouldn’t sound out of place at the Third Rail when Magnolia took a rest. It is beautiful and breathtaking, a love song through and through.

“_Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.  
__In other words, hold my hand…”_

Preston’s hands reflexively clench, and a gloved thumb smoothes over the back of his hand. There’s been no touch other than his own, but Preston can almost imagine Nate taking his hand just like that.

“_In other words, baby, kiss me.”_

The Minuteman’s traitorous mind shouts ‘_I would if you let me, babe._’ But he bites his tongue.

“_Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more  
__You are all I long for, all I worship and adore  
__In other words, please be true  
__In other words, I love you.”_

Nate hums along to music that Preston can’t hear, and whispers the last two lines again, with all the pain of a widow.

“_In other words, please be true._  
In other words, in other words, I love you.”

There is silence afterward. The crickets almost don’t chirp, not wanting to interrupt the weight of that voice and the heart behind it. Preston turns slowly to look up at Nate, who is still staring up at the sky. The moonlight catches the lines by his eyes, the curve of his jaw, the faint colour of his stubble. He looks almost like starlight himself. When Nate turns to look down at Preston, their eyes lock and as much as Preston tries to shove it down, he feels his heart throb in his chest.

“No wonder you never took Magnolia up on her offer. You’d never leave the microphone, if anyone in their right mind had anything to say about it.” Preston smiles, trying to cut the moment just a little.

Nate laughs softly. “Gotta let someone else take the stage, huh?”

Preston nods. “In all seriousness, though – thank you, General. I know that was quite private.”

“Thank you for letting me share it,” Nate smiles. “And in all seriousness, please, call me Nate.”

“Thank you, G- Nate.”

Eventually, Preston does have to return to his circuit. He bids Nate a soft goodnight, even though Nate certainly doesn't get up, and makes his way back to the road. It is a lonely vigil before he trusts the turrets enough to go to bed, but all the while, he hums the soft little melody to himself, keeping the beat with each step.

_In other words, please be true.  
_ _In other words, I love you._


End file.
